


Operation Pandora

by beestung2025



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 10:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestung2025/pseuds/beestung2025
Summary: AU: After the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort becomes intrigued by the young girl who successfully held her own against trained killers. Her capture becomes a priority for the Dark Lord. Some OOC but it is AU after allOld unfinished work. Archived as is.





	Operation Pandora

 

The first human woman was created at the behest of Zeus and given gifts by all the gods. It was in her curiosity and without malice that she opened the container that contained all of humanity’s evils. After all the evil was released, at the bottom all that was left was hope. The woman’s name was Pandora.

 

* * *

 

The Dark Lord was furious. Fucking pissed, to be exact. Several of his best Death Eaters had been captured and incapacitated by school children. School children no more than 16! The stupid Order of the Phoenix backup arrived while the ridiculous children had the situation in their favor. How hard was it to capture one measly teenager? After months of crafting dreams to sway the boy, carefully teasing out the information to create the perfect vision that would propel the boy into being vulnerable, Voldemort’s coup de grace ended up a fucking nightmare. He had to show up himself to the Ministry of Magic attempt to finish the damn job and ended up facing Dumbledore himself, and even possessing Harry Potter wouldn’t sway the old coot to kill the nasty brat. All was not lost, as the Wizarding World was thrown into turmoil and fear, a climate that Voldemort could thrive in with his remaining, less capable followers.

It did not ever slip his notice that he had been foiled again. The Dark Lord needed to find out what it was that continually helped the exceptionally average Harry Potter evade him time and again aside from pure luck when Dumbledore wasn’t there to step in. He reviewed Bellatrix Lestrange’s memories of the events in the Department of Mysteries, via pensieve. Going through her mind personally was like wading through layers of mud and filth, so corrupted and close to insanity was the witch after her incarceration at Azkaban. 

Voldemort smiled as he found his answer in the extracted memories, seeing the bright face of a young witch with hair as wild as Bellatrix’s, holding her own against his failed Death Eaters. Torn between fury at the grown men Dolohov and Malfoy for not being able to subdue the little witch, he was taken in by her skill at such a young age, and the confident look in her eyes as she faced down his Death Eaters. She could be a valuable asset, if she could be persuaded properly. It was at this conclusion he had the young Malfoy brought before him.

“You- you wished to see me, my lord?” Draco Malfoy tried and failed to retain the smooth confidence that had carried him thus far in his life. He was in his family’s library, where the Dark Lord had taken up a corner for a study and to ruminate on strategy and tactics. A private audience in the library was unheard of, and no one who valued their lives entered without an invitation. Draco had simply learned to live without his family’s library, or sending in a house elf when the Dark Lord was proved to be anywhere else for a retrieval. 

“Yes. This girl. Who is she?” Voldemort prodded the pensieve with his and the figure of Hermione Granger appeared in her Hogwarts uniform, fighting an unseen opponent with success.

“That’s Potter’s mudblood, Hermione Granger, sir. She’s a bossy know-it-all, top of the class in everything.” Draco answered nervously.

“Mudblood?” Voldemort’s unusually smooth forehead creased, giving his snake-like face that lacked a nose and his blood red eyes a particularly grotesque look. Draco remained silent.

“But, smartest in her year. Aren’t you in her year?” Voldemort turned his face from the dueling Hermione Granger in the pensieve to look at Draco, whose pale cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment.

“Yes, my lord. No matter how hard I study and work, I have yet to beat her. I’ve been second in the class, but I cannot overtake her.” Draco confessed before adding derisively, “the werewolf Lupin has called her ‘the brightest witch of her age’ which has caught on.”

“Is that so…” Voldemort looked again at the young witch in the pensieve. “What else can you tell me about her aside from her intelligence? Good marks do not equate taking on your father and Dolohov and coming out alive.”

“She and Potter formed an illegal club that practiced dueling & fighting this past year, though from what the informant said, it was Granger’s idea and prodding to do it, along with her method of covert communication that we couldn’t get out of the informant. Granger had a curse that made nasty boils form the word “SNEAK” across the girl’s face when she divulged any information. Nobody’s been able to remove them.

“With the intel we did gain, Umbridge tried in vain to shut it down but we only managed to capture a few when Potter tried to use the floo network, and a few more who were on lookout, but Granger pretended to act like she knew some secret weapon of Dumbledore’s. That’s how she lured Umbridge out to the Forbidden Forest, where Umbridge had her run-in with the centaurs. Granger managed to catch the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum’s eye in last year during the Triwizard Tournament— she was the thing he’d miss most in the second task. Had some fun with the Prophet slipping them misinformation to make her life difficult” Draco snickered, but sobered quickly at the Dark Lord’s blank expression. 

“She broke my nose in third year, like the dirty muggle she is, because I called her a mudblood. Though, thinking on it, if she weren’t a dirty mudblood she’d have been a great Slytherin. She’s pretty cunning and can be ruthless. It’s only because of her brains everyone thinks Potter is a hero. Everyone knew she trained him for the Triwizard Tournament in spells, practically does his homework for him and Weasley. Definite weakness in her best friends Potter and Weasley. She has this aura though, you can’t ignore her even if you wanted to— and I’ve really wanted to.” Draco finished somewhat sulkily. Voldemort nodded, processing the information.

“Tonight, young Malfoy, you will be marked and given your first official mission. But right now, I am giving you a task that you must tell no one— absolutely no one. You will write to me weekly about this witch. I want to know everything she does. Who she talks to, who she is seen with, and how often she is alone. She may be a mudblood, but she’s an anomaly… She is Pandora, and with her curiosity, she may just open the jar.” Voldemort turned his gaze back to Draco, who stood tall despite the shiver running down his spine.

“Jar? I thought Pandora opened a box?” Draco asked thoughtlessly.

“A translation issue. Pandora was one of the first magicals, an innocent virgin who possessed some of the most brilliant powers, but her curiosity when it came to the dark arts, frequently symbolized as a jar or box, was her downfall.” Voldemort’s lipless smile was cruel. “And if you can, do find out if she is a virgin. I must acquire her. Do your best to ensure that she stays isolated without involving yourself.”

“My lord, that is a task most easily accomplished. The right words in the right ears…” the trademark Malfoy smirk graced Draco’s face.

“Do not become over confident, boy. You will receive the official mission and your mark at the meeting this evening. Tell no one of this or your task with the Granger girl. You are dismissed.” Voldemort laced his words with compulsion, turned away, and was watching the pensive memories again while Draco Malfoy let himself out of the library as quickly as deference could allow. Confusion did not come close to his maelstrom of feelings but having a secret mission from everyone else that was already in his grasp of completion made Draco feel on top of the world. If only his official mission would be as easy or successful.

* * *

 

 

It could not be said that the Dark Lord wasn’t patient when it suited him. It was during the skirmish when young Malfoy lead the Death Eaters into Hogwarts that Hermione Granger was almost captured, and the old fool Dumbledore killed, albeit by his loyal follower Severus Snape and not Draco Malfoy as officially demanded. The Dark Lord knew of the Unbreakable Vow between Snape and Draco’s mother Narcissa, but decided that Draco’s primary mission would be for his Pandora, that Draco should not be severely punished for failing to kill the old coot. The young Malfoy provided the best intel a Dark Lord could have hoped for; he read of Hermione’s every move during her sixth year at Hogwarts. She was partially isolated from her friends thanks to Draco putting the right words in the right ears, a promise the boy delivered on. By the end of her sixth year, it was considered that crossing Hermione Granger, friend or foe, would result in hexes or curses— ones usually considered benign, but at her hand could amount to almost torture and definitely prolonged displeasure, much to the Dark Lord’s glee. 

If the information garnered by Draco Malfoy was to be believed, from the supposed best girlfriend of Hermione Granger, one Miss Ginerva Weasley (thanks to the Imperius curse and well executed memory modification), Hermione was not only still a virgin, but likely to remain that way for the time being, while her crush was entertained by a loose girl who had the idea placed in her mind to pursue the boy by none other than Draco Malfoy. 

Draco was stretched thin with the official mission while exceeding expectations at his unofficial mission, but the reinforcements sent by Voldemort via his godfather, Severus Snape, were spurned by the legendary Malfoy arrogance. It lead to sloppy work on the official mission for Draco to kill Dumbledore, but allowed the unoffical mission for Snape to actually kill the man himself to continue unsuspected. In fact, before Draco was even assigned his official mission, Snape was contracted by Dumbledore to slow a fatal curse and let the old man come to a the conclusion that he could orchestrate his own murder. All of which, fed directly into Voldemort’s plans—thanks to Snape blaming Dumbledore for letting the one woman he’d switched sides for to die at Voldemort’s hands after risking becoming a double agent to save her. The double agent merely switched his priorities around when it was clear that Dumbledore was, once again, unmatched against the Dark Lord.

The order given to his Death Eaters entering Hogwarts via the link that Draco Malfoy established ingeniously with the pair of vanishing cabinets, was to subdue and capture Hermione Granger. Unsatisfactorily, this did not occur, but Snape succeeded in the execution of Albus Dumbledore, even if Draco Malfoy couldn’t step in and commit murder himself. Malfoy at least got the Death Eaters into the school undetected and provided much needed information on and interference with the associates of Hermione Granger. The next opportunity the Dark Lord had to grab her was at a wedding of one of the Weasleys. Via Snape, Voldemort was informed his horcruxes were going to be destroyed systematically by Dumbledore and after his death, the mission would be passed down to Harry Potter. It was then that Voldemort began earnestly searching for a new form of immortality knowing that all of his horcruxes were in danger if Hermione Granger set her mind to it. 

While his followers were unawares, only Draco Malfoy truly knew of the Dark Lord’s obsession and worry over the mudblood Granger. It was by sheer luck that she, Potter, and Weasley were captured by Snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor in the that spring. Sheer luck brought Hermione Granger in front of Draco Malfoy along with Harry Potter, both of whom he denied knowing while covertly pressing his mark and muttering an incantation to alert the Dark Lord. It was a disappointment that the prisoners Lovegood, Ollivander, Griphook, and Thomas disappeared along with Potter and Weasley, but Granger was left despite all Gryffindor-esque attempts to retrieve her from torture. The girl was nearly crushed by a falling chandelier if it wasn’t for Draco’s quick thinking to blast her out of the way, away from Potter and Weasley, who were being extracted by a house elf. At the end of it all, Granger was left and the Dark Lord was prepared for an audience with her when he arrived.

 

Voldemort never took “No” for an answer. Having felt Hermione Granger’s magical aura; the Dark Lord was certain that eventually, given the right circumstances, his Pandora would open the jar within her. It took less than a minute in her presence before the Dark Lord sensed the darkness within Hermione Granger, as well as the knowledge she possessed yet hadn’t acted upon despite the irrational need she’d felt to further study  dark magic. By her logic, how could she possibly outsmart the other side if she didn’t completely understand and know all possible variables in the situation? It was with her first meeting with Voldemort that Hermione learned this was to her disadvantage after being captured. Something within her was tapped and the potential simply oozed from her at this point. Voldemort smiled privately as it would make his temptation of Hermione Granger all the easier.

“Join me, Miss Granger, and you will know exaltation beyond your wildest dreams.” The Dark Lord spoke to Hermione, as she was forced to her knees before his throne, within the ballroom of Malfoy Manor.

“No.” Hermione answered automatically, her inner Gryffindor taking over. 

“Are you sure?” Voldemort grinned sardonically. “The elder Malfoy is eager to jump at the chance to pay you back for the insult at the Ministry. I can only hold him back so long.” Voldemort gave a sidelong glance at Lucius Malfoy, whose wand hand was indeed twitching. A subtle look was all it took for the man to ready himself.

“I will not betray Harry. He’s—“ Hermione began before starting to writhe in pain. Lucius Malfoy cast a non-verbal torture curse on her. Five seconds later she was free.

“my best friend.” Hermione finished, her eyes, hooded in residual pain.

“I am not asking you to harm Harry Potter, just research for me. Your reputation precedes you, Miss Granger.” The Dark Lord smiled his lipless smile from his throne. Hermione hesitated. Research could give the Order of the Phoenix time to rescue her.

“What are you looking to be researched? How do you know I am the right witch for the job?” Hermione queried.

“I am told you are the brightest witch of your age, and that your test scores at Hogwarts rivaled mine. I’m sure your NEWTS will as well, which you are welcome to take at the Ministry, if you are under my protection.” Voldemort answered her smoothly.

“But I haven’t even thought about scholastic studies for months! How would I be able to pass my NEWTS without a rigorous study schedule?” Hermione worried to herself for a moment. Voldemort chuckled with actual mirth at the schoolgirl’s fretting over grades in the middle of a war in which she’d been a key player for years, being groomed by the old bat Dumbledore. Dumbledore must have been quite senile if he thought that school children were soldiers; a headmaster should put the education of his students first.

“Miss Granger, I believe you are capable of so much more than mere NEWTS, though I’m sure you would give my scores a run for their money, as the muggle saying goes. If you decide to take my offer and work for me as a researcher, you would have plenty of time to study for your NEWTs as well as complete your work, which I guarantee would be more fulfilling than anything Potter could provide or that mad goose chase Dumbledore set you on before his death.” The Dark Lord smirked at her, the lipless mouth making Hermione feel less at ease than a round of the Cruciatus Curse.

“And my choices are what? More torture” Hermione waved in Bellatrix’s direction, “or research and taking my NEWTs? I know I cannot count on much respite from you or from your followers, but I do not want anything else carved into my flesh.” Hermione concluded. Voldemort raised his non existent eyebrow, to which Hermione held up her forearm and showed off the bloody wound spelling ‘MUDBLOOD’ that Bellatrix carved while torturing her earlier.

“I see. Miss Granger, I will personally see to your healing shortly. Young Malfoy, show Miss Granger to her chambers. Bellatrix, you will remain with me. Everyone else is dismissed.” The Dark Lord gave commands and they were obeyed immediately. Hermione looked vaguely confused but let Draco lead her out of the room.

“My lord, are you pleased? I marked her myself.” Bellatrix Lestrange simpered eagerly to the Dark Lord as the room cleared of the other Death Eaters.

“No, Bellatrix. My orders were specifically to apprehend, not harm the girl.” Voldemort replied evenly from his throne as his follower approached boldly.

“She has not been harmed! Merely… embellished.” Bellatrix smiled manically as she drew nearer to her lord’s throne. She’d previously been his favored subject and companion for him in many ways, and clearly hoped upon her breakout from Azkaban she could resume the position but had yet to find any of her advances accepted.

“Bellatrix, your idea of embellishment could have permanently pushed the girl against my cause! She is the key to my future plans, and you could have very well ruined it with your playing.” The Dark Lord answered severely, enjoying the way the woman cowered at his displeased tone.

“But, my lord—“

“No, Bellatrix. You disobeyed a direct order. She was not to be harmed. You will pay.” Voldemort raised his wand, as the witch before him cowered in fear.

 

Hermione felt rather surreal as Draco lead her to a different wing of the house, past whispering portraits. After what felt like a complete maze of hallways and doors, Draco stopped in front of a door with a small plaque on it. Hermione was amazed to find her name engraved there.

“How—?” Hermione began. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Simple spell— the house elves do it whenever we have guests.” Draco said, unlocking and opening the door for her.

They stepped inside a spacious room, decorated in pale greens and dark blues. There was a desk with parchment, a bookshelf stuffed with books that Hermione could see dealt mainly with immortality and mythology, as well as some Dark Arts books, and rare tomes that Hermione was itching to get her hands on. Draco chuckled seeing her longing at the books.

“There’s a bath through that door, the other is a closet. A wardrobe has been selected for you, by my mother actually, so it will be quite fashionable. A house-elf will probably destroy those rags you’re wearing, Granger. Anything you need, just ask. My personal elf, Dip, will be caring for you. Don’t frighten him Granger— I’ve heard of your reputation with house elves. Before you say anything, I’ve always taken good care of Dip. He’s cared for me for as long as I could remember.” Draco cut off Hermione before she could object to a house elf. Draco looked around cautiously before continuing.

“It was lonely growing up. Lots of toys yes, but Dip was my only real companion when I was little. Be good to him and don’t frighten him with talk of clothes or wages. I take care of him, and he’s always taken care of me.” Draco’s words seemed to take Hermione aback.

“Don’t try to escape. I recommend a bath before the Dark Lord sees to you— whatever ‘mission’ Dumbles had you on left you smelling like stale cats and rotting leaves.” Draco smirked at the horrified look on Hermione’s face.

“Well, thanks, I guess, Malfoy. I suppose I’ll see you again before you go back to school. If he doesn’t kill me before then.” Hermione sighed and went to turn into the room.

“Granger— The Dark Lord has been very interested in the witch that could hold off Dolohov and my father at sixteen. He’s pulled your academic scores and any information he could get. I doubt he’ll kill you unless you give him good reason to do so.” Draco gave her a small smile.

“What, being Harry Potter’s muggleborn best friend isn’t one of them? What’s a witch got to do to get herself killed around here?” Hermione snorted and Draco couldn’t help but join in.

“Just, watch your back. The Dark Lord thinks you’re of use to him— make sure he keeps seeing you that way, and you’ll stay alive.” Draco said seriously.

“Got it. Well, I best shower before his highness comes to heal me. Thank you.” Hermione gave the blond boy a nod before shutting the door to her new room. She sighed heavily and showered quickly before getting dressed in a set of robes the house elf set out while she bathed, her old clothes having disappeared, probably gone forever. She’d started combing her hair when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” Hermione responded automatically, and stiffened at the presence of the Dark Lord. She’d heard of auras, mostly from Luna Lovegood who swore she could see them, but she hadn’t paid much mind to them until she was brought into Voldemort’s presence. She could definitely feel his magical aura. She had the irrational thought that it was dark green in color, though she couldn’t see anything with her eyes. But it was also cool, and almost comforting, if it wasn’t for the rational reminder to herself that this was the man who murdered and tortured hundreds, hunted her kind based on their blood status, and would kill her parents without a second thought. He was the man who killed Harry’s parents, and had tried to kill Harry numerous times. Constant Vigilance, Hermione reminded herself.

“Good to see you settled into your room, and changed into more becoming clothing. You showed me a wound earlier which I promised to heal.” The Dark Lord stood tall, well over 6’, but really most people were tall compared to Hermione’s 5’5’, which she was sure would be as tall as she would get. The wizard seemed to be waiting for her to respond.

“Y-yes, sir. Bellatrix Lestrange—“ Hermione began, fidgeting with the comb in her hands, her damp curls dripping onto the robes.

“She has been disciplined. Mrs. Lestrange has not been quite the same since Azkaban, I am afraid. All orders were for you not to be harmed. May I see the wound?” The Dark Lord cut Hermione off, but did not step any closer to her.

“Oh, oh yes. Sorry.” Hermione rolled up her sleeve, revealing the bandage she had found in the bathroom. Blood had already stained it. Hermione frowned slightly.

“May I?” The Dark Lord took a single step towards the girl sitting on the bed.

“Yes, please. I don’t know why it is still bleeding. I can do simple healing charms wandlessly, but they’re not helping.” Hermione bit her lip anxiously, while the Dark Lord knelt in front of her, taking her arm and unwinding the bandage.

“Wandless healing charms?” He questioned as he made his examination.

“You can’t spend your life with two boys as your best friends, particularly quidditch crazy ones, and not gain experience with healing charms. While— well you know we haven’t been at Hogwarts and have essentially been on the run, well I’ve been trying to learn wandless casting and the first spells I practiced and perfected were the most useful ones for being around clumsy boys.” Hermione couldn’t help herself babbling a bit but it was disconcerting to have the darkest wizard of all time in front of her, kneeling no less, even if it were only to heal her arm.

“I see. Well, it looks like Bella used her favorite cursed knife on you. It will hurt, healing this. I will have to draw the curse out, like poison from the wound if it is to heal properly. Would you like to watch?” The Dark Lord stood briefly, before sitting next to Hermione who stopped herself from flinching. ‘He’s helping me’ she repeated to herself over and over. Hermione nodded eagerly at the idea of learning a new healing method that could be quite helpful, and quite possibly, modified, depending on how the wound was inflicted. 

“Now, I will be speaking in Parseltongue, but the words are not that important. A lot of the more complex magic is intent, and the words simply act as a focus for your mind whereas your wand will focus your magic.” The Dark Lord explained as he placed his wandtip at the edge of the first letter.

“Breathe deeply, Miss Granger, and keep breathing. This will be painful, but the process will be worth seeing.” The Dark Lord instructed her, giving her a moment to compose herself before beginning chanting in the fluid, hissing language of snakes that was rather soothing if Hermione thought about it. It reminded her of some of the romantic languages rooted in latin, with their flow and beauty; it was a big reason she enjoyed learning French to the point of fluency, with her Spanish and Italian at a conversational level. Of course with Universal Translating charms, learning languages wasn’t as necessary, but Hermione still enjoyed it. Hermione was pretty sure Parseltongue, as it fell from the Dark Lord’s mouth was the only magical language she’d felt similarly about, though she also knew that it was an inherited trait, else you sounded like Harry, from whom is always seemed unnatural and harsh on the rare occasion she’d heard it. It was just lyrical in how the Dark Lord spoke it, as if it were a native tongue that no one else was privileged to speak. Hermione wished the talent was not so rare; the language was just too beautiful.

“Done. Though, I believe, Miss Granger, you were not paying very close attention.” The Dark Lord smirked at the girl next to him who began trembling.

“I’m sorry, I was just—“

“I know. You think rather loudly. I’m glad you enjoy hearing Parseltongue as spoken by a native speaker. I didn’t know Mr. Potter spoke it poorly.” The imposing wizard next to her chuckled.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t speak it like you, sir.” Hermione cast her eyes down, but her wet curls fell in her face, irritating her. Quickly, she dried her hair wandlessly, running her hands over the curls and smoothing them down. 

“So, you can so simple healing charms and dry your hair. What else can you do wandlessly, Miss Granger?” The Dark Lord lounged back, taking in the young witch next to him.

“Not much else. Silly jinxes and hexes to stop Harry and Ron from bothering me while I was reading or researching, mostly. Nothing complicated; things from the Standard Book of Spells, Grades 1 and 2, really. I only recently started making a lot more progress; started slow but as I got the hang of it, things progressed pretty quickly. Mostly I learned because there’s only so many hours you can spend on the run, researching and reading before getting quite bored.” Hermione sighed.

“Well, if you’re interested in expanding that skill, I could assist in teaching you.” The Dark Lord offered.

“In exchange for?”

“Starting to think like a Slytherin, good. Same as before. I want you to research for me. I know the ‘mission’ Dumbledore handed down to Potter and you and the redhead were hunting down my horcruxes. I’m looking into other forms of immortality. Horcruxes were not ideal but at 16, they were appealing to a rage-filled teenager.”

“You’re saying you’re not rage-filled now?” Hermione smirked. The Dark Lord chuckled.

“No. I merely keep the discipline amongst my ranks. I have to admit, I was furious when Antonin and Lucius failed me, but it was their failure at the Department of Mysteries that brought you to my attention. I have been quite patient when it came to acquiring you, Miss Granger.”

“You speak of me as if I am some object.” Hermione spat, her anger flaring. The Dark Lord tucked an errant curl that freed itself behind her ear.

“You are no object, Miss Granger, make no mistake. I believe you are Pandora come again.” The lipless mouth curved into a smile.

“Pandora, Prometheus’s wife?” Hermione cocked her head to the side, her brief anger forgotten.

“No, the real Pandora. She was one of the first magicals, believed by her village in ancient Greece to have been given gifts by all the gods. It was when she studied all branches of magic, opening the proverbial box or jar within herself, it was realized that she was much more than just a simple witch.”

“So, she was a dark witch after temptation?” Hermione puzzled.

“She was powerful. In all forms of the myth, at the bottom of the jar remained hope. Magic is about intent; it is neither light nor dark. It is about power, and those too weak to seek it.” The Dark Lord’s red eye’s bored into her amber brown eyes.

“Hope. Intent.” Hermione repeated these words thoughtfully. “Why me? I’m just a muggle-born. You hate my kind.”

“In the beginning, Miss Granger, there was no differentiation in blood. Pandora was the only witch in her village, a girl that was determined to have been given the gifts of the gods to explain her magic. Every Pureblood line started somewhere, when one found a similar mate, with magical parents of their own. The pureblood families did not always exist and many fibbed their way through or inbred so much you ended up with my maternal family, the Gaunts.”

“Your propaganda states muggle-borns steal magic.” Hermione soldiered on, almost pouting.

“Not mine, just something I have left to correct once I’ve won the war. I admit, I shouldn’t have let Yaxley place Dolores Umbridge in charge of that.” The Dark Lord remained thoughtful.

“Horrid toad. Sorry to hear she’s finally out of Mungo’s.” Hermione grumbled.

“I did hear about that stunt you pulled, Miss Granger. I wouldn’t have thought a Gryffindor such as yourself would have been capable.” The Dark Lord smirked at her.

“Little old me? I simply let fate take it’s course. She shouldn’t have been so terrible to those Centaurs.” Hermione shrugged with the most innocent expression on her face.

“And what other courses of fate have you influenced, Miss Granger?” The Dark Lord asked her slyly.

“Only ensuring justice was served. The hat had a hard time sorting me, but I stand up for what is right, even if I must do what others shy away from in order to accomplish it.” Hermione replied stonily.

“I agree, the end justifies the means. Maybe we will come to understand each other, but at least we do have an understanding. You will suffer no harm while you are under my protection and in return you will research for me. When you feel prepared, I will arrange for you to sit your NEWTs. In the mean time, I expect your mornings to be spent pursuing NEWT study, and your afternoons researching for me. Tomorrow I will meet with you in regards to the specific projects I need you researching, and you will let me know what you need to accomplish it. All NEWT study materials will be delivered to you tomorrow, and I will go over questions and practicals with you when I meet with you.” The Dark Lord stood, smoothing his robes.

“You have not mentioned what it is I am to be researching.” Hermione Granger defiantly lifted her chin and stared into the red eyes of the Dark Lord.

“I am in need of a restorative spell or potion to knit my soul back together. Every horcrux destroyed does not kill the soul, it merely rejoins the other pieces— it does not weaken me much but I do not wish for other powerfully magical historical items to be lost at the desire to destroy the vessels in which I’ve stored my soul. I do believe the fractured state of my soul will keep me from other forms of immortality, which I also want you to research. A potion of old has been referenced in some of these books but none actually have the instructions. Whatever supplies you need will be obtained. Anything to facilitate your research is yours. You will have all protections I can provide, as long as the agreement is upheld.” The Dark Lord eyed the interest in Hermione’s eyes as she listened carefully to his request.

“I can see what is possible. I cannot say it is impossible; I believe with your assistance and unlimited resources, it could be achievable. You did use a resurrection spell of your own creation, but it was incredibly dark. If I were to counter balance it with a light restoration spell, your soul could knit together but it will hurt— what I’ve read in regards to healing the soul starts with regret and remorse.” Hermione slightly shook her head to stop herself from getting side tracked.

“I agree to these terms.” Hermione held her head high as she assented to a deal with the devil.

“Miss Granger, I will take my leave. I have left some light reading for you and tomorrow you will begin your new tasks. Good evening.” The Dark Lord’s robes billowed about him as he strode from Hermione’s room, locking the door behind him.

“Well, Hermione, what the bloody hell did you get yourself into now?” Hermione sighed and flopped back on the bed. She traced the faint outlines of the wound that now looked weeks along in healing on her arm. A curse drawn out like poison from the wound… She would need to investigate that as a possible avenue in a restorative spell/potion to knit a soul back together. And she was fairly certain she’d need phoenix tears, though one as a companion would be greatly pleasing. He did say anything she wanted would be obtained. Well, she hadn’t seen her half-Kneazle for almost a year now— perhaps it was time she got a new magical companion.

 

* * *

 

 

The Dark Lord was exceedingly pleased with his first encounters with the Granger girl. He immediately moved back into Malfoy Mansion to be close to her, and honored the elder Malfoy with a place within his inner circle again, with young Malfoy inducted that very evening. It was his quick thinking and intel that made acquiring his Pandora a success. Draco was greatly rewarded with first pick of offerings at the next revel, and a choice in his next missions. Privately, Draco offered an idea for his own mission, spying on the students rebelling within Hogwarts and passing information as it came to him; this was quickly agreed upon, as it played to Draco’s strengths and Voldemort wanted to place a new spy in the Order of the Phoenix since Snape was no longer trusted after the execution of Dumbledore. Draco also proffered a blue beaded bag that he’d found in the dungeons, believing it to be Hermione’s. The Dark Lord was very pleased and released Draco from all duties during his vacation, aside from making sure Hermione Granger was settling in well to her new surroundings.

The next morning Dip the house elf roused Hermione at 8am, begging her to wash and ready herself for breakfast with the family and the Dark Lord, who would escort her in 45 minutes. Hermione flew into the bathroom, bathing with the french milled soap she came to adore the night before and absolutely enjoying the fact she had been able to properly bathe two days in a row. There was a delightful deep conditioner for her use, that she found wonderful for taming her curls. She dressed and wandlessly dried her hair, and quickly pinned back the curls that always seemed to get in her face. Precisely on time, there was a knock at the door and the Dark Lord showed her down to the breakfast room himself. The Malfoys, along with Bellatrix, were in attendance, and all seemed as surprised as she was that the Dark Lord himself escorted her into the room. He showed her to her seat, next to Draco, who was at the Dark Lord’s right hand, whereas the senior Malfoy was to his left, with his wife and sister and law next to him. Bellatrix smiled tightly at Hermione, eyeing her hair. After the Dark Lord began serving himself from the covered platters, everyone made themselves comfortable. A house elf appeared at Hermione’s elbow and asked her beverage preference.

“Coffee?”

“Oh yes Miss, at once!” The house elf disappeared with a pop, and came back with a mug and silver carafe.

“Bless you, thank you.” Hermione mumbled and poured herself her a cup of coffee. She sipped it reverently.

“You look like you are in heaven.” Draco smirked from next to her.

“Shhh. Don’t ruin the moment. This is my first cup in months.” Hermione continued her measured sips, savoring it.

“Months? You poor thing.” Bellatrix murmured, rather sardonically.

“Can’t stand the stuff. Tea for us, Dilly.” Lucius Malfoy intoned.

“Nothing like one’s preferred morning beverage. Draco loves coffee, as does Bella, but I never picked up a taste for it.” Nacissa Malfoy made small talk at the girl across from her.

“No, there really isn’t anything quite like it. I enjoy tea in the afternoons, but at Hogwarts I picked up the habit of a cup of coffee in the mornings. Like I could forget about all the cares in the world for the duration of one cup.” Hermione smiled back.

“I see you drink it black. No cream or sugar, Miss Granger?” The Dark Lord smirked at her.

“I don’t bother with it. I could go into detail on my ideal cup, but I won’t bore you. Perfectly brewed, it needs no accompaniment.” Hermione smiled into her cup, worshiping the caffeine gods and house elves that provided her with such a wonder, months since her last cup. It had to have been— oh goodness, the morning of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Much too long to have been without coffee. Tea they had. But coffee was a luxury Hermione did without.

“I need cream and sugar for my coffee. I cannot fathom drinking it plain.” Draco prepared his own cup.

“I drink mine black, like your soul.” Hermione muttered to him causing Draco to snort and nearly spit out his coffee.

“Draco, where are your manners? With guests no less!” His mother, Narcissa, scolded. Draco glowered and Hermione stifled a laugh, catching an amused look from the Dark Lord. Apparently nothing escaped his attention.

“Sorry Mother. My apologies.” Draco bent his head and scowled into his breakfast plate.

Hermione pulled out all the manners her mother instilled in her, much to Narcissa and the Dark Lord’s approval. ‘Ye of little faith’ Hermione thought to herself as she delicately fed herself. It would take awhile for her to get used to eating normally, but regular meals and bathing with plumbing was a welcome change from months living out of a tent. Even if it did mean the current company for the time being. At least she was being treated respectfully.

After breakfast, Hermione was lead back to her rooms by Draco who asked her if she had any lists of items yet that she would need obtained for her. Hermione dashed over to the desk and lifted a sheet of parchment with some of the more difficult to find ingredients for a potion she’d like to begin experimenting, based on the reading she’d done the night before. He did not glance at it and assured her he’d take it directly to the Dark Lord.

Hermione settled down with her books and barely noticed three hours had passed before the Dark Lord was knocking on her door.

“Yes?” She inquired, staying at the desk, reading on. The Dark Lord smiled when he saw her, reminded of himself as a young student.

“I received your list. This… well it is quite a list. You want a phoenix?”

“Yes, as a magical companion. You see, the tears, the ash and even the eggshell… all of them are incredibly powerful in potions, particularly restorative. And not to mention the magical properties of the feathers. A bonded phoenix would make for stronger potions from the brewer, and I do believe I could bond with one. Then the possibilities in spell and potion combinations— it could very likely fit your needs, especially based on these texts.” Hermione pointed to the tombs that had been set aside for her to read.

“It will take some time to obtain one, but I will get it for you. You make a good case. If you plan on brewing, Severus Snape is a resource I can put at your disposal.” The Dark Lord offered. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t like him, and he does not like me.”

“You would be surprised; Severus is hardest on those with promise. He is adept at potions and brilliant in the creativity of brewing. I highly recommend you at least run your recipe by him.” The Dark Lord intoned.

“You are right. Of course.” Hermione admitted and the Dark Lord smirked.

“I’m always right, Miss Granger.”

“Always.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I have been lenient with you girl, because I want you to research for me, mind and body undamaged, but do not give me attitude.” The Dark Lord reprimanded her and immediately Hermione could feel his aura again, the raw power rolling off of him. It was intimidating, and she was sure he was during it on purpose.

“I see. I am sorry sir, no disrespect meant.” Hermione lowered her eyes.

“Sir will have to do for now. Eventually you will address me as Lord or Master.”

“We have an understanding. I am to research; I am no follower or servant. It is an exchange of services.” Hermione held her chin high.

“My sweet Pandora, your Gryffindor qualities will do you no good in a pit of snakes. Save your theatrical energy. Merely do your research, and I will assist you when needed.” The Dark Lord responded. Hermione straightened her shoulders but lowered her eyes again.

“Draco tells me he believes this is yours. He found it in the dungeons after your friends departed. Gave him quite the stinging hex when he tried to open it.” Voldemort produced the blue beaded bag from his robes.

“My bag! Yes! Oh, the stinging hex is because Ron kept trying to raid—“ Hermione cut herself off and stopped.

“There’s more to this than meets the eye. I can tell it has a feather-weight charm, but why on such a small bag? And what noises come from it” Voldemort shook the bag slightly and a clatter came from it.

“Be careful! There’s important things in there!” Hermione cried without thinking.

“Oh? Do share” The Dark Lord smiled gleefully as Hermione took the bag, disarmed the stinging hex, and began taking things out— a tent, a large box of first aid potions, the small library she’d been doing her dark arts/horcrux research in (including several books that surprised the Dark Lord even), and spare clothes before the Dark Lord called for her to stop.

“An undetectable extension charm. But where, my dear, is your wand?” The Dark Lord asked.

“I think… I think Harry has it. I didn’t have it on me while being tortured by Mrs. Lestrange, and we were disarmed when we arrived. Harry or Ron must have taken it with them when they grabbed their wands as they were being rescued.” Hermione said in a small voice, willing herself to block the memory of Harry’s wand snapping during the Christmas encounter with the Dark Lord’s snake familiar, Nagini, focusing on the confusion and pain of being left behind.

“It is a shame Mr Ollivander is no longer with us, he may have been able to produce another wand for you. No matter, we will find you one. Something adaptable I think. And if you bond with your phoenix, perhaps it will donate a feather for your wand.” The Dark Lord smiled that lipless smile of his. The smile never reached his eyes.

“Maybe it is time for me to have a new wand. I’ve changed so much since I was 11 and got it in Diagon Alley.” Hermione said softly, running her hands over her small library that had been in her beaded bag.

“These books are rather interesting to be in your possession. Some of them are quite rare. I’m surprised Dumbledore allowed you to look at them, let alone take possession of them.” The Dark Lord mentioned with nonchalance. 

“After… Well after he died, in the chaos that followed, I went into his office. I took the books I thought I might need for fighting— fighting you. How could I fight the dark with no knowledge of it? And others came from the Black family library at Grimmauld Place. It was a safe house until stupid Yaxley tagged along our disapparition from the Ministry. Ron got splinched when we finally lost Yaxley on the doorstep” Hermione said bitterly.

“What was the purpose of that, Miss Granger? The mess at the Ministry? You took a great risk going there, setting some Mudbloods free, but why?” The Dark Lord pressed.

“Your locket. Slytherin’s locket. It HAD been in Grimmauld Place but Mundungus Fletcher stole it after Sirius died and sold it to that toad Umbridge, who pretended she was a Selwyn. As if! She’s as much of a Selwyn as I am.” Hermione huffed.

“And did you get it? You must have destroyed it, that piece of soul has returned to me.” The Dark Lord was impassive.

“Yes. It took us awhile. We had to wear it in turns. Your soul piece was quite vindictive and possessive. It seemed easiest for me to bear though, particularly while I was researching.” Hermione admitted.

“In these books?” The Dark Lord motioned to the dark arts books Hermione had produced from the blue beaded bag.

“Yes.”

“It makes sense. I read many of those at that time. I’m sure it felt satisfied.” The Dark Lord smirked.

“I have— I have the locket still. Perhaps it can be worked anew.” Hermione reached into the bag, rummaged around a but before producing the twisted metal of the locket, holding it out. Voldemort took it gingerly.

“I spent years of my life searching for this locket. I’d like to find and remove the soul pieces from the other heirlooms before Potter destroys them all.” The Dark Lord looked almost sad as he surveyed the locket.

“What else is there? I mean, we knew about diary and the locket, and Dumbledore destroyed the ring. My theory was that you got something from each founder. There are legends of a cup that Helga Hufflepuff owned and of course the lost Diadem of Ravenclaw.” Hermione ventured.

“That old bat destroyed my ring? I knew he’d taken it and activated the curse… no respect for historical and family heirlooms.” The Dark Lord spat angrily.

“Well you put your parts of your soul in them, what kind of respect is that?” Hermione responded, unmoved.

“The kind thinking that it would remain safe and untouched.” The Dark Lord ground out, trying to rein in his anger and not curse the witch on the spot.

“There’s still a chance to save the cup and diadem, if you used those. I mean, when Bellatrix was torturing me she was accusing me of going into her vault, and the goblin said the sword of Gryffindor we had was a fake, but—“

“WHAT?! No, not a fake if it destroyed the locket— I was not informed of this. I must leave now. Especially if I need to retrieve items before they are destroyed. I won’t let those objects be destroyed in folly!” The Dark Lord jumped up, agitated.

“Get to work on a restorative. I will have need of it soon. I must take my leave and fix this mess. I will return later, Miss Granger. Thank you for your time.” The Dark Lord attempted some cordiality in his goodbye to her, despite his evident agitation.

Hermione sighed in relief once he was gone. She managed to at least keep her DA galleon secret in her bag, and kept her notes on the Deathly Hallows and the Tales of Beedle the Bard without arousing suspicion. When she figured everyone else was busy, given the shouts, slamming of doors and eventually faint pops of apparition, Hermione took out her DA galleon. She saw Harry’s birthday in the fake string of numerals at the top. It took longer without her wand, but eventually she got it to read her own birthday, and she activated the protean charm. At least her friends would know she was safe, even if she couldn’t talk to them. She hid the fake galleon back in the bag, tossed the tent back in, before summoning items that she could use in her new room for the time being. 

The first aid potions she stuck back into the bag; she didn’t think they’d be needed in the mansion. The books could be useful, but there were a few duplicates amongst the ones already on the bookshelf. She felt oddly provided for in this room given it was stocked with clothing in her size and toiletries, but her favorite pen and worn copy of  Hogwarts, A History were welcome items of sentimental value that she could use in this brave new world she entered after her ‘understanding’ with Voldemort. She had his protection, provided she put his soul back together and then made him immortal. Well, she had an idea for the soul restorative but Immortality? She would have to work with The Dark Lord himself in researching that, if it was even possible. And hopefully, Harry would kill him before anything could be accomplished. Getting his soul restored however? That could very well help the Order, and Harry, removing the necessity of having to hunt down and destroy horcruxes before the attempt to kill Voldemort was necessary. She only wished she had a way to communicate with the order to tell them of the new plan.

 

* * *

 

 

The Dark Lord arrived at Gringotts with Bellatrix Lestrange while Harry Potter was doing reconnaissance under the Invisibility Cloak. He saw what was happening and aborted the mission of breaking in and stealing the horcrux he was sure to be hidden in the Lestrange vault; clearly, they were too late. Harry felt his pocket heat up and fished for his DA galleon. Hermione’s birthday! She must be okay! She must have been able to get to her bag in the dungeon… but then something didn’t quite feel right. If she was in the dungeon she would have gotten it before now. How did she send the message without a wand? Harry was using her wand right now. And then with the aborted plan at Gringotts… Harry needed to talk to Ron. He needed to talk to everyone. Harry slunk under the invisibility cloak to a disapparition point and apparated to Shell Cottage. This was something they all needed to discuss.

 

* * *

 

 

It was unusually quiet when Harry gathered the few order members to Shell Cottage that he could. Many couldn’t be summoned so as to not raise suspicions, but they would be informed at the next proper meeting. Bill and Fleur played the perfect hosts, with Fleur popping up now and then to tend to the goblin Griphook and Mr. Ollivander, who had been saved from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. They were kept decidedly uninformed of the informal Order of the Phoenix meeting, but Luna Lovegood was invited given her rank in the DA, as well as her participation in the fight at the Department of Mysteries. Joining the informal meeting was Remus Lupin and his wife Tonks, as well per Harry’s request, Auror Kingsley Shacklebot. They had to talk about Hermione.

“I’m worried about Hermione.” Harry started the informal meeting.

“Harry, we all are. She’s stuck in those dungeons and they’re doing god knows what to her—“ Bill began but was cut off by Harry.

“That’s the thing. Her bag was left in the dungeon, with her DA coin two days ago. Today it sent the message of her birthday. At first I thought it was to let us know she’s safe, but I can’t help but feel something is wrong. She doesn’t have a wand, so how did she activate the charm? If she was in the dungeon, why make us wait a day and a half to let us know she was okay? There’s something going on and I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it. While Vol-You-Know-Who is good at keeping the connection closed, sometimes strong emotions slip through. He’s been really pleased up until this morning when he was agitated. After I saw him at Gringotts, it was back to nothing. Do you think— I can’t believe I’m saying this— do you think Hermione turned on us? She must’ve known that the next place for us to search in our mission was Gringotts, based on Bellatrix’s crazy reaction to seeing the sword of Gryffindor in our possession.” Harry lowered his eyes to the table, ashamed he was contemplating his best friend and one that had helped the most on his mission might have betrayed him.

“He’s right, something’s up. Hermione could have easily been forced to tell information during torture— we saw what Bellatrix was doing to her during our escape— how can we trust that the coin’s message was true? She couldn’t have activated it without a wand!” Ron burst out.

“Now we can’t jump to conclusions.” Remus butted in before anyone else could say something against Hermione. “Hermione is the brightest witch of her age, truly. She may be already coming up with a plan. It seems that our biggest issue is that we cannot communicate with her.”

“We should have gone back for her.” Ron moaned, putting his head in his hands. His brother Bill patted his back.

“It’s not as if we can storm Malfoy Manor. It was a miracle that Dobby got you out with the other prisoners, but he paid for it with his life. It’s impossible to stage a rescue for her. She’s got the fortitude to be able to last awhile longer there, until we can find a weak spot to exploit. We’ve got spies stationed in major areas to alert us of any possible change in habits. We’re doing everything we can to safely get her out.” Kingsley stated, his deep voice calm and collected.

“Every minute she spends there is a minute that she could be tortured to death!” Ron roared.

“I think the message she sent is genuine. If anyone could do wandless magic, which I understand she’s been studying, particularly on a charm she modified and placed, it would be Hermione. As a prisoner, she may not have had access to the bag until recently. It would have taken her time to wandlessly manipulate the charm the way she wanted. Also, I doubt You-Know-Who is letting her rot when he could be trying to use her against us.” Remus interjected.

“I agree with Remus— He’s got to have some plan for Hermione. Has anyone noticed she’s been specifically not targeted? The only time she was hurt was at the Department of Mysteries, and any other skirmish she’s only ever had to block stunners, though it did seem that she was focused on more than anyone else.” Tonks spoke up.

“I could go back.” Luna said in her dreamy way, turning heads.

“What?” several voices chorused back at her in varying stages of disbelief.

“I could go back to Malfoy Manor. Send word on what is in store for Hermione. Too bad we don’t have her to charm something for covert communication.” Luna explained patiently.

“You mean you’d willingly go back to torture and that hell hole?” Harry was aghast. “We just saved you, you can’t go back.”

“I think it’s a good solution. This morning one of our network has reported Death Eaters buying exotic potions items as well as a rumor that You-Know-Who is trying to get a hold of a phoenix.” Kingsley said sagely.

“It’s better than nothing. We can send her in prepared.” Bill nodded slowly.

“And both Sirius and James cornered the market on covert communications before Hermione did, and I always did the research and helped in spell casting. You forget Harry, I was a major contributor in the creation of the Map.” Remus said pointedly.

“So are we just to throw Luna to the wolves and hope that Hermione isn’t dead or turned?” Harry spat bitterly.

“Harry” Luna said, leaning over to place a hand on his arm, “this is my choice and idea. We all know Hermione. She’s probably thinking her way out of whatever situation is happening. We both heard how she kept the truth even under torture. We’ve got to at least try to help her. She’s always done it for us.”

“Luna’s right. Hermione would never turn on us. She’s probably got some plan already, for our advantage. She just can’t get it to us.” Ron sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else present.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. We never should have left without her!” Harry slammed his hands on the table.

“Harry, you can’t always save everyone. As soon as it’s possible we’ll mount a mission to rescue her but to do so now would be certain failure. Luna is proposing an option that could work, and allow a spy into the manor. We have no idea what’s going on in there, or what’s happening to Hermione. We only know that a message was sent to us by her charm meant as a message she is safe. I think we should take it as such. The DA galleons were brilliant work by her, and meant to hold up under scrutiny by anyone trying to pry.” Remus said patiently, the older Order members nodding along.

“So we just need a way for me to get back there, and communicate back.” Luna said brightly. “I could get caught by snatchers easily enough, or even going back to school would raise suspicion. I could approach Professor Snape—“

“Don’t trust that snake, Luna.” Ron spat out.

“Since he did betray us, it wouldn’t matter if Luna approached him— it would be a safer transport to the Manor than Snatchers.” Tonks interjected.

“And, he wouldn’t search her the way Snatchers would.” Bill added.

“We could devise a few ways of communication then, even if it’s a one way transmission.” Remus said thoughtfully.

“I don’t like it.” Harry said stubbornly. “Luna has already been through enough—“

“We all have Harry. We’re in a war.” Luna smiled sadly, but the dreaminess in her voice held. “It’s a step towards rescuing Hermione.”

“We have no other way to reach her at this point, which is a key starting point. Luna, your mission is approved.” Kingsley finalized the matter, with the authority of being one of the head Order members.

“Remus and I can get to work on covert communication. When we can get something in place, we can get Luna to Hogsmeade. From there, the castle and then she can get to Snape.” Bill said confidently.

“I have a few ideas—“ Remus stopped abruptly, as his wife Tonks moaned softly in pain, a hand on her heavily pregnant belly.

“It’s nothing, but we should be getting home.” Tonks smiled weakly.

“It’s decided. Bill, Remus, work on getting methods of communication for Luna. When that’s completed we’ll send out Luna. Meeting adjourned.” Kingsley stood up, purposefully cutting off Harry who wanted to interrupt.

“Something isn’t right about all of this…” Harry muttered, peeved no one was listening.

“And that’s why I need to go back. For Hermione. Don’t give up hope, Harry.” Luna patted Harry’s arm, showing that she had been paying attention. “There’s always hope, even with all the evils in the world. Hope still remained after Pandora’s box was opened.”

 

* * *

 

 

Curse breaking was Bill Weasley’s specialty, not spell creation. But, his specialty did give him an amazing breadth of knowledge when it came to component parts of various wards, curses, and spells both archaic and new. 

“Whatever we do, it’s got to be layered and deep, incredibly subtle. Something that can allow Luna to at least transmit even when otherwise incapable— it can’t draw on her magic.” Bill Weasley mused at Remus and Tonk’s cottage. With their child due any day now, Tonks was forbidden by everyone from her husband to her mother to other Order members from leaving. Remus was unwilling to leave his wife at such a momentous moment, even in wartime, so the work on how to allow Luna to transmit covert messages to the Order, even under duress, during a mission to Malfoy Manor was carried out at the Lupin home. While the work was contracted between Bill and Remus, Luna invited herself along.

“What about blood magic? It is subtle and won’t differentiate anything from my normal self if it’s already in place when I arrive. If worked correctly, my blood can carry the spell that is required for communication. They can’t take my blood away from me without killing me, and anything else could be lost or taken, rendering my going back pointless.” Luna was fixing tea while thinking out loud. Remus, Tonks and Bill stared at her agog.

“Blood Magic?! But but—“ Tonks began before Remus cut her off.

“Out of the question. It’s too dangerous and too dark.” Remus stated, folding his arms.

“Which is why it won’t arouse suspicion in a manor full of dark magic.” Luna smiled brightly. “Blood magic isn’t necessarily dark magic, it’s old magic. Very old magic. Blood wards are the strongest wards, and the bond between mother and child is blood magic. It’s what saved Harry.” This statement gave everyone pause.

“What you’re saying is true, Luna. It is the most subtle solution, but it is permanent. Blood magic doesn’t fade the way that other magic can. That’s why it is so strong.” Bill said slowly, measuring out his words against his curse breaker knowledge.

“I’m willing to live with that.” Luna held Bill’s gaze until he dropped his eyes, uncomfortable at the resolution the typically dreamy eyed girl was displaying.

“Alright then. We have a carrier for the spell, now to solve how it will be transmitted, and to what.” Remus muttered, displeased at the idea of using Luna’s blood but unable to find a reasonable argument.

“We need to think like Hermione.” Luna placed the teapot and mugs on the table and sat. “She always thought of the most ingenious methods. Though, she also drew inspiration from the most unlikely places.”

“Oh?” Remus cocked his head in interest.

“She told me once that the DA galleon was actually inspired by the dark mark. Obviously she executed the protean charm completely differently, but she said she wouldn’t have thought of it, or even how best to notify large groups if it weren’t for You-know-who already solving the problem. He’s quite brilliant.” Luna responded in an airy tone.

“She— Hermione— it’s based on the dark mark?” Tonks asked, aghast.

“Inspired, not really based on. She wasn’t going to brand us, obviously. But she needed to get our attention without drawing attention. I think she reworked the problem brilliantly.” Luna grinned.

“Inspiration can be found in unlikely places…” Remus nodded, thinking back to his own years as a Marauder and the hijinks Sirius and James got up to in and out of school.

“Speaking of which, what about that diary Harry destroyed? We know now it was a horcrux, but what if it was a journal that could be the receptacle for the communication? It can be easily hidden and overlooked in an safe house.” Luna piped up.

“That would work. And given the components, it’s possible for it to contain a memory transmission, as it’ll be carried by blood. It could be like a pensive, but I don’t think it can be permanent, or read by anyone not bound to read it through blood.” Bill said thoughtfully.

“Enchanting a journal like that would take a lot of casting preparation before writing in blood, by the reader and you, Luna, as the transmitter. We’ll need the runes for penseives, and then whatever your activation for transmission will be—blood upon a specific activation rune would work.” Remus said uneasily. He wasn’t comfortable with the direction of this project. One look at his wife told him that she felt similarly.

“I know the components for various enchanted objects that have served as receptacles, but I’ll need your help, Remus, to weave them into a workable enchantment. I agree that blood from the reader and Luna will be necessary. Maybe even two readers, in case one becomes incapacitated.” Bill drummed his fingers on the table in thought, before starting to scribble down notes on a parchment in front of him.

“I know this is not your ideal, Professor Lupin, but we’ve got to think like Hermione. She was always too brave to be a Ravenclaw, but she would have out-witted all of us. She’s not trusting anymore and is more cunning than any Slytherin. I worry for her because of what our side would do if they don’t understand her plan, Professor. She’d never betray Harry, but that doesn’t mean the Order won’t betray her if they didn’t understand she was acting the snake for the greater good. You heard Harry at the meeting— I’m worried for Hermione, Professor. It’s not even so much that we need her, but she needs us.” Luna’s blue eye’s furrowed in sadness as she reached a hand across the table to him.

“You’re quite right, Luna. She does need us, and we need to do everything to support her.” Remus softened in understanding. The girl was right; Hermione always gave everything for Harry and the Order. He said himself that she was the brightest witch of her age, and he meant it. Hermione likely had a plan, and what Luna said was true. The Order could not betray her in doubt after all she’d given.

“So who should be the readers of Luna’s mission journal?” Tonks asked hesitantly.

“I think myself and maybe you, Tonks, if you agree. You’ve got Auror training, and your blood will be strongest being a mother. It’ll anchor the enchantment deepest, with the importance of bonds and watching over loved ones running strongest.” Bill proposed.

“Like Lily.” Remus breathed, closing his eyes, thinking of his deceased red haired friend.

“So… blood magic. To keep watch over Luna, who will watch over Hermione? I think I can do this. I can do this.” Tonks nodded, gripping her mug. The idea of blood magic not being dark was new to her, but also made sense down to her bones, when explained in terms of motherhood and the safe guarding magic Lily Potter imparted on her son. Her own child would be born soon, and everything just made sense. She would be the anchor that would keep these girls watched over while in danger. Tonks liked that idea.

All of them nodded and got to work.

 

* * *

 

 

Back at Malfoy Manor, Hermione settled into a routine. In the morning, she’d take coffee and a light breakfast in her room, before cracking open one of the NEWT subject books she planned on taking. She’d call for a lunch that could easily be eaten while studying and researching as she switched from NEWT prep to soul binding.

Occasionally she’d make trips to the Manor’s library for different material to study an angle Hermione just thought of, and she found herself frequently taking tea with Narcissa or the Dark Lord himself. Both parties she found witty and engaging, though on entirely different topics. Narcissa was a wealth of information on binding ceremonies, particularly marriage ones that bound the soul—they were quite en vogue for purebloods a few generations back, and were frequently mentioned in wizarding romance novels. Hermione thought this aspect of research was just as enjoyable at times as hiding behind a large tome. She found the Lady Malfoy to be an excellent conversationalist and infinitely better to talk to than anyone else she’d met. Frankly, it was often that Hermione simply didn’t know how to relate to others, whereas Narcissa’s pureblood upbringing taught her how to make polite conversation with anyone no matter the circumstances. Narcissa found herself liking the girl much more than she ever thought possible, and glad for her company, given that Hermione was exceptionally bright and mature for her age. Through prolonged exposure, Hermione subtly began picking up many of the fine mannerisms that reflected the upper classes of wizarding society, as Narcissa would share another memory of some famous witch or wizard and what they were actually like in person.

Taking tea with the Dark Lord was an entirely different experience. No one ever sought his company explicitly, though after his first brusque command for Hermione to sit and join him, Hermione found herself drawing near to his corner when she was in the library, generally to talk. His world view was so entirely different from her own that Hermione knew that her research and work was significantly more thorough under his tutelage. Hermione found their conversations to be enlightening, existential, and often nihilistic. The Dark Lord was a fantastic tutor though, and his steerage through NEWT study, wandless magic, and creating a combination of restorative potion with a binding spell was advantageous for her. Hermione wondered how much differently Tom Riddle would have ended up had he gotten the role of professor at Hogwarts that he’d desired. He would have been a popular but fair teacher… provided he didn’t torture the students, she giggled to herself after returning to her books one afternoon.

Dinners were quiet affairs, and anyone present as resident or guest in the house was expected to attend. Hermione preferred to ignore that the dungeons were no longer empty so as to keep her sanity intact and mind focused at her own task that kept her alive and buying time for her own escape or rescue, a hope that grew dimmer with each passing day. And thus it was quickly a month that had passed since her capture; Hermione sat on the bed with her research on potions and soul bindings around her. A knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Miss Granger, how is your progress today?” the Dark Lord asked, stepping into the room.

“It depends, sir. Would you like the good news or the bad news first?” Hermione peeked up through her hair at the imposing figure.

“The good news.”

“Well, I just need to run the potion by Professor Snape one last time, and once a phoenix is procured as well as a rose quartz cauldron size 2, then your rejuvenation potion is ready for brewing.” Hermione stared at the parchments, plucked one out from the pile and handed it to Voldemort. He quickly read it and looked pleased.

“Very thorough, Miss Granger. I did not expect you to come so far so quickly.”

“Neither did I, sir. But, with your insights and the knowledge at my disposal, it wasn’t that hard to formulate.” Hermione raised her head and smiled briefly before tucking her head down and staring at the parchments again.

“And the bad news, Miss Granger?” The Dark Lord enquired.

“Well, you see, sir, it’s about the soul binding. There are no spells for a single soul to be bound back together. I’m working on modifying one, but most of the soul binding spells are marriage related. So, if this cannot be modified, and from the different approaches I’ve made… you may need a second, intact soul to bind with.” Hermione thrust out another sheet of parchment to Voldemort. He was less pleased with this one.

“I see.”

“Though, Professor Snape said there’s a possible work around. But from what I can gather from research, it would end up binding you to the person. And there’s less choice.” Hermione’s voice got very small, as she willed herself to sit up straight and have courage.

“And what does Severus say in this matter?”

“The blood of a virgin, willingly sacrificed during the binding ritual— I thought it a lark at first, like something out of Lady Malfoy’s romance novels. But researching it… it is a solid option. But even with a modified blood binding, the magic is so ancient it is likely to still bind the two souls together, especially once you’ve taken the restorative potion, which should be done prior to any soul binding.” Hermione forced herself into what she came to terms with as her ‘lecture mode’ so as to not blush on the subject matter.

“That is interesting. Look up group bonding rituals; you may find some inspiration in there so that I don’t end up bonded to some chit.” The Dark Lord chuckled, making Hermione look up in surprise.

“Sir, I disagree with Professor Snape on the use of virgin’s blood. Blood magic is hard to manipulate, but because of that, forms a most strong foundation for bond.” Hermione continued.

“That is true. I would not have to worry much about the state of my soul when bound to a willingly self-sacrificed virgin. Granted, it isn’t like I’d be killing or torturing the girl, I just don’t fancy being bound forever to any of the brainless chits who would willingly offer to me.” Voldemort said with mirth.

“How can you find this funny? It is a serious matter! The restorative potion also serves as purification before a bonding ceremony. You’ll likely need to take a few doses over the course of a week to completely rid yourself of anything that would get in the way of the bond as well as call all of your souls pieces to you. Smaller doses would rend you less vulnerable and cause less damage to the vessels for your soul pieces.”

“Indeed, Miss Granger, go on.”

“Once purified and in possession of all soul pieces, then you’d need to go through with the binding. Should a modified one fail, you still have the option of virgin’s blood but unlike Professor Snape, I don’t think it should be a first choice. Blood bonds are always permanent and you will always have a connection to the blood donor.”

“I see. Keep looking into it, and I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for acceptable virgins.” At the Dark Lord’s words, Hermione blushed furiously.

“Is the subject matter embarrassing, Miss Granger?” The Dark Lord smirked.

“I will be honest, it does make me uncomfortable.” Hermione answered quietly.

“Is it because you are a virgin?”

“Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t think a blood sacrifice is necessary. I can figure out a way around it. I need time.”

“Unfortunately, Miss Granger, time is not something we have. But let us turn to happier things. Come with me to the sitting room, I have a surprise for you. Two actually.” The Dark Lord held out his arm expectantly. Hermione hurried off her bed, straightening her robes, and placed her hand on his arm to be escorted to the sitting room.

“Miss Granger, as you can see I have two pets for you. One is the phoenix you asked for, as both a companion and to assist in your potion making and research. The other was brought back after being found wandering free in Hogsmeade. She was taken from the dungeons when your friends left you here. I present her to you as a pet, to do with as you see fit.” The Dark Lord made a sweeping motion with his hand, showing off the large gold cage where a female phoenix of white and gold, with the barest traces of red, preened herself. Also showcased was the pathetic form of Luna Lovegood, dressed in ratty clothing and completely filthy, with magical bindings at her wrists and ankles. Hermione suspected she may have had spent time in the dungeons before being ‘gifted’ to her— as if one could own another human!

“Sir, you are most generous to me. I am certainly eager to get brewing. May I take these treasures to my room to get started? I will need to bond with my phoenix, and Luna will need a bath if she is to be company to me. She will certainly need better clothing than what she is wearing.” Hermione tried to keep her cool, but anxiously looked over Luna for signs of torture and abuse. Mostly she looked underfed.

“Give her your least favorite robes for all I care. Go on, take your pets to your room. I am glad you are satisfied with them. I will see you at dinner; I do not expect you for tea.” The Dark Lord smirked in a most satisfied way before sweeping from the room.

Hermione let out a long breath and looked at Luna. The girl only cocked her head to the side, but before she could open her mouth to ask any questions, Hermione held her finger to her lips. With a flick of her wrist, Hermione levitated the phoenix cage wandlessly, and beckoned Luna to follow her to her room. When they arrived, Hermione found to her surprise there was an ornate stand for both cage and bird, as well as a small trundle bed at the foot of her own.

After shutting the door and casting a hasty muffling spell, Hermione turned to Luna.

“You shouldn’t have come back. Luna, what have they done to you?” Hermione inspected the girl and found herself being inspected right back.

“We had to establish communication Hermione. It’s one way, but I’m the carrier.” Luna opened her mouth, revealing a shimmering carved rune on the inside of her cheek.

“How do you activate it? That’s brilliant! What’s the transmission to? What actually gets transmitted?” Hermione was bursting with questions before realizing that Luna had sacrificed herself on behalf of the Order.

“Luna, you didn’t need to come back here. I mean, I have been waiting and hoping that I’d be rescued, and well, now am just resigned to taking my NEWTs and solving the Horcrux problem.” Hermione tentatively reached out to the phoenix in the cage, which eyed her warily before allowing herself to be stroked.

“Hermione, it was the only way to keep Harry from doing something rash; something that would possibly hurt you. The nargles are a terrible influence on him. Plus Voldemort has been really happy since you’ve been around—“ 

“Don’t say his name!” Hermione hissed at Luna, looking around cautiously. “While here, just call him ‘the Dark Lord’ or if you’re addressing him, you can probably get away with ‘Sir’ like I do and don’t have to call him your lord or master. Ugh, that part always makes me rather sick. And giving you to me as a pet! What a horrible notion! I cannot own another human, no one can. I don’t even think people should own House-Elves or other sentient beings!” Hermione ranted. Luna laughed gayly.

“The Nargles have got him tightly in their grasp. It’s more infested than mistletoe around here!” Hermione shook her head at Luna.

“Nargles or not, I hope you’re not infested with something gross. Go on, the bath’s through there. I’ll bring in clean robes for you. And call a house-elf for tea with extra sandwiches for you.” Hermione started bustling Luna towards the bathroom, waving a hand to dispel the muffling spell she’d used.

Hermione and Luna were catching up on Hermione’s bed with tea, stroking the phoenix when a house-elf appeared.

“Missy Hermione” the house-elf bowed deeply to the girls.

“Yes, Laurel?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“Master Dark Lord would like Missy Hermione to dress formally for dinner as there will be guests. He says yous can’t bring your new pet, but since he is a generous lord, that he will send up a plate from the main course for her. Because he says one must take care of their things.” Laurel the house-elf recited looking at the ceiling and fidgeting with her hands.

“Thank you for delivering his message Laurel. Would you like a biscuit as a thank you? I know I cannot offer much—“

“Ooh, yes please Missy Hermione! You’s most kind, thanks you!” Laurel scampered over and selected a flower shaped biscuit off the tea tray on the side table and popped away.

“Well, whoever is coming to dinner is sure to be a pain, if I have to dress up.” Hermione harrumphed. “Usually dinner is very quiet. Anyone in the house that isn’t… well isn’t in the dungeons is expected to be there. When they’re not being snobbish, the Malfoys are actually pleasant enough to be around. I rather like Narcissa. She’s actually been a wealth of information on soul binding— apparently it’s very popular in romance novels and romantic fantasies of young witches.” Hermione giggled. Luna cocked her head to the side, somewhat surprised at Hermione’s lighthearted feelings regarding the mistress of the manor. In fact, Luna was amazed as she wasn’t sure when the last time she’d heard Hermione giggle.

“You’re the lucky one, Luna. Not having to go. I’m sure I’ll be biting my tongue bloody by the end of dessert.” Hermione smiled sadly at her friend, who gave a small grin back. Luna was scrubbed thoroughly now, and dressed in a set of lovely yellow robes, as Hermione remembered Luna’s fondness for the color that reminded her of sunshine.

With a flick of her wrist, Hermione re-cast the muffling spell she’d cast earlier.

“I knew that I couldn’t have a day where I only got nice things. I was waiting for a message to arrive since I brought you up here. Now, tell me how the rune works and what sort of transmissions you’re giving. I’m assuming they’re going to Harry & the Order?”

“Actually, it goes to a journal that only Bill & Tonks can read— she gave birth by the way, a beautiful baby boy, named Teddy after her dad. Nary a nargle in sight, though he’s already seeming to be a source of mischief on his own! He usually looks like Professor Lupin, but has Tonk’s metamorphmagi ability. His favorite thing is to turn his hair blue.” Luna smiled dreamily. “Harry and Ron have been lost without you of course; their best lead was Gringotts and Harry spotted Vol-well—HIM, while doing reconnaissance and abandoned the mission. He called an Order meeting, I was invited because of the DA, and we had to talk him down from the thought you betrayed him and tell him that you actually have been practicing wandless magic and didn’t need a wand to activate your DA galleon. You’ve gotten very good at it, by the way.” Luna smiled.

“The Dark Lord is a surprisingly good tutor. He’s been monitoring my NEWT studies and research. That was the deal— I research and he gives me protection. I figured that it would give the Order enough time to find and rescue. It’s not like the potion ingredients I need are unassuming. Kingsley must’ve been tipped off, at least by the gorgeous lady here.” Hermione smiled sweetly at the phoenix in her lap, who trilled softly as she was stroked.

“So Bill and Professor Lupin were volunteered to create a method of communication for me— I offered to come back to the Manor so that the Order, especially Harry, could understand you. People are at their most dangerous when they don’t understand.” Luna smiled sadly.

“How does it work? I’m assuming you’ve been transmitting this whole conversation.” Hermione pressed. Luna nodded.

“Blood magic, actually. All I need to do is place blood on the rune— bite my cheek or tongue— and it automatically activates and transcribes the next 45 minutes unless I nonverbally cast ‘Nox.’ If I nonverbally cast ‘Memoriam’ while putting blood on the rune, a memory of 15 minutes is transmitted or until I cast ‘Nox.’” Luna grinned. “It was my idea to use blood, and we got Tonks on board because the spelled journal is specifically designed by Professor Lupin and Bill to be like a mother watching over her children.”

“Wow, Luna… that’s brilliant. I mean, I’m really impressed. That’s beyond anything I could have imagined.” Hermione blinked, surprised that she had some tears forming, and that her friends would go to such lengths for her. Rescue her haphazardly, running into danger, yes, but to create such intricate bonded blood magic was not what she ever thought anyone would do for her.

“I had to think like you and gather inspiration from somewhere. Well, like you said the DA galleon was based off of the Dark Mark, this was based on HIS diary. But instead of draining magic and feeding false information, our diary transmits true information to watch over us.” Luna was very pleased with Hermione’s reaction; it was clear that she’d been losing hope as time passed. Luna impulsively embraced her, and was hugged back, the phoenix between them trilling happily.

“Ugh, I’m going to need to start getting ready soon for this dinner tonight. I’ll make sure there is extra food in the room, though if the Dark Lord says he’ll send up a plate, he will. He’s been very direct with me— everything he says he means explicitly, and he always follows through on anything he promises. I don’t know what his expectations are, but I have this suspicion he wants something more from me and simply is waiting for the right time to ask it, when I am unable to say no.” Hermione sighed deeply. 

“I don’t know how late I’ll be, so please sleep in the real bed Luna. I don’t mind sharing and that little one is absurd.” Hermione stood up, wrapping her arms around the phoenix and gently letting her walk onto her perch. She stayed a moment, stroking the phoenix.

“What will I call you, lovely? Titania, perhaps?” The phoenix cooed happily. Hermione flashed a grin at Luna.

“Fairy queen of unequaled beauty from Shakespeare, it is then.” Hermione rubbed the bird’s beaked, and was nipped affectionately.

“Quite fitting” Luna smiled back.

“Now to do my beauty regime. Better to disarm whatever guests with looks since I cannot use my wit. Ugh, dinners like these make me want to tear my hair out!” Hermione huffed as she threw open the wardrobe and rifled through the formal robes. Luna’s eyes popped wide in amazement. The gowns and formal robes in the wardrobe were exquisite, and all seemed to be in Hermione’s size. Hermione noticed Luna’s stunned look.

“Apparently the Dark Lord had been trying to take me hostage for some time. He had Lady Malfoy create a wardrobe. And well, she does nothing by halves. Apparently she’d always wanted a daughter but was unable to have a second child at all” Hermione said sadly. Titania the phoenix answered her sadness with a soothing trill, that both girls felt strongly.

“When, do you think?”

“Since the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Apparently my dueling both Malfoy senior and Dolohov and succeeding was enough to garner his attention. Whatever that is to be taken to mean. He told me… Oh! Luna! Make sure the Order knows this: any destroyed Horcrux— it doesn’t kill the soul piece! It gets recalled to the original. And that’s what I’m researching; how to knit his soul back together and render him whole, while keeping the horcrux vessels intact. After that, I’m to research and figure out how to make him immortal— Some of these books speak of a potion but there’s just no hints as to what will it entails. It will obviously take longer, but the rejuvenation and binding his soul back together will help Harry. That’s why I’ve been working so diligently. The horcrux hunting is a waste of time; oh I was furious when I learned that! And so was the Dark Lord,” Hermione laughed bitterly, “He was mad that Dumbledore and Harry were destroying priceless artifacts. As if putting part of your soul in one was any better!” She huffed and selected a set of formal robes in a charmed iridescent black/blue, stitched with tiny rhinestones and seed pearls in constellations in an exact copy of the night sky. “I think these will do for tonight. Dark enough for hiding, pretty enough to not look like I’m doing it.” Hermione hung the robes on a valet rack, and went over and hugged Luna tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Luna. It’s been so lonely. I was occupied, yes, lots to learn, but I missed my friends. The ones I never have to be on guard around.” Hermione stepped back and headed to the bathroom to bathe and start getting ready.

“You’ll never have to pretend with me, Hermione. I understand.” Luna smiled softly as Hermione dispelled the muffling charm.

 

* * *

 

 

At precisely quarter to five o’clock, a knock sounded at the door. 

“Okay Luna, I’ve warded the room so you and Titania will be safe. Only house-elves can get in, and there’s reflective magic barrier at the door so no one can cast at you from outside the room. Feel free to rummage through anything, though you know my rules, especially for notes— keep them in order and leave them exactly how and where you found them! There’s loads to read, lots of mythology that would probably interest you.” Hermione broke off as the knock sounded again at the door. She quickly hugged Luna and opened the door.

“Headmaster Snape, how droll to see you this evening.” Hermione sang out, trying to close the door quickly, but his hand shot out to stop her.

“Miss Granger. And Miss Lovegood, I’m glad you were able to be reunited with Miss Granger. Is everything to your satisfaction?” The current Headmaster of Hogwarts and previous potions master looked down his long nose at the two girls. Luna smiled happily from the bookshelf, nodding as she selected a dogeared book of greek mythology. “Absolutely, Professor. I was given to Hermione just this afternoon.”

Hermione stared from one to the other, surprise clearly on her face.

“That’s enough dawdling Miss Granger, we are expected downstairs. The Dark Lord is not a patient man.” Snape said, holding his arm out for Hermione and closing the door as he escorted her from the room.

“You will need to do better to hide your emotions, tonight will be a difficult night, I expect.” Snape spoke quietly in her ear as he led her through the Manor to the drawing room.

“And here I was hoping I could just throw up a few ‘notice-me-not’ charms and hide in the corner.” Hermione grumped.

“I don’t know how he puts up with that attitude of yours, Miss Granger.” Snape sighed.

“Oh, I save it just for you. I’m not entirely stupid, you know.” Hermione snickered.

“Some days, I’m not exactly sure.” Snape retorted as they rounded the corned into the hallway where the drawing room was located. There were many witches and wizards chatting away, in the hallway and in the spacious room itself. The Dark Lord took Hermione from Snape immediately.

“Miss Granger, how was your afternoon? I assume you spent it bonding with your new pets.” He smiled down at her.

“Yes, sir. I’ve developed a good rapport with my phoenix, and named her Titania.” Hermione responded.

“A fitting name.” The Dark Lord continued smiling.

“You know the reference?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“There wasn’t much else to read when I was not at school, during my boyhood.” he responded, and Hermione nodded.

“Is this a celebration, of some sort tonight?” Hermione asked, changing the subject before if got too awkward.

“I’m glad you asked, it is a sort of celebration. You have been here for a month.” That serene, lipless smile on his face had started to grow on Hermione, much to her surprise.

“Have I? I hardly noticed. I’ve been so busy.” Hermione managed to reply.

“And Severus went over your notes for the final potion, and agreed it is ready for brewing.” 

“I’m so very pleased, sir.” Hermione returned, feeling somewhat empty.

“And I’ve scheduled you to take your NEWTs next week. You have been ready to take them since before I started tutoring you, and you’ve finished the final chapters in all of the NEWT prep books I’ve had Severus provide for you.”

“Professor Snape provided them for me? How kind of him. I will need to thank him later. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ready to take them—“ Hermione began but was cut off.

“Confidence, girl. Don’t second guess yourself for the sake of it.” The Dark Lord chuckled. Hermione wondered briefly what exactly he meant by the remark.

“Only that you have the habit of second guessing yourself because no one else questioned you” The Dark Lord answered her unasked question reading her mind, and felt her subsequent irritation.

“Practice Occulmency if you want to, but that I could have told you without peering into your mind— you still think very loudly. Might as well be shouting it at me.” He chuckled again.

“I’m not sure how else I could think, much less think softly.”

“I will teach you tomorrow. For now, it is time you greet our guests. They are here to celebrate your accomplishments.” Hermione’s surprised look up at the Dark Lord was everything he’d hoped it would be, and it warmed him in a way that made him realize that he’d never been properly warm before.

“M-my accomplishments, sir?”

“Do you think other eighteen year olds would have been able to create a complex soul restorative potion and modify soul binding ceremonies in a month? Or anyone, actually? I’ve worked on this task for years and you finish my work in a month. Truly Pandora, gifts given from the gods. A gift given by the gods. I would be remiss not to acknowledge such accomplishments.” The Dark Lord took her hand and kissed her knuckles. It was an incredibly odd and surreal moment, as if a Sumerian god had deigned to recognize her and was praising her.

“I had help, sir, your help. I doubt—“

“There you go, doubting again. No doubts tonight, Miss Granger. Just be pleased with yourself and your accomplishments.” He returned her hand to his arm and patted it lightly, as he brought her over to the first of many illustrious guests he wanted her to meet. And truly, the group assembled was that which Hermione wanted to meet— academics and authors of theories and papers she’d used or was impressed by. Hermione’s subconscious warned for her to be wary, but she did very much enjoy meeting such renown intellects of the modern wizarding world. Lucius Malfoy was looking very smug in the corner, speaking quietly with Severus Snape, both of them watching the proceedings carefully.

“Are you absolutely sure, Severus? That he’ll go through with the blood binding?” Malfoy senior asked his confident.

“Almost. The girl is protesting, but I’m sure after tonight and the restorative potion she’s created, she won’t refuse him anything.” Snape replied.

“And immortality?”

“Nothing is beyond her.” Snape said with assurance. “I’ve taught her for six years, and I’ve never seen anyone else who could fix botched potions the way she can, and even get her dunderheaded friends through trouble. Have you forgotten dueling her at fifteen? Imagine how powerful she is now at eighteen. She’s continued to learn avidly, and has moved onto both wandless and non-verbal casting, as well as spell crafting. She hasn’t used a wand since she’s arrived here, and her room was completely and very thoroughly warded when I went to escort her down here this evening. If he doesn’t bind to her, she would be a force to be reckoned with; more than Dumbledore ever was.”

“Sweet Salazar.” Lucius muttered.

“Indeed. But you have an ally— your wife has been taking tea with her when she’s not taking tea with the Dark Lord.” Snape smirked at his friend’s surprise.

“I did not know.”

“The Dark Lord is exceptionally pleased. Apparently Narcissa has been very helpful with soul binding research. Who knew one could learn so much from romance novels and feminine fantasies?” Snape sniggered.

“Narcissa always did enjoy those novels. I’m certainly glad I indulged her now!” Lucius laughed quietly.

“When have you not indulged your wife? She’s always had you by the bollocks.” Snape snickered at his friend.

“True. She always has.” Lucius smiled at his wife across the room, toasting her, receiving a smile and faint blush in return.

The evening was a haze of brilliant and academically stimulating conversations, finally ending with promises of correspondence between several parties. Hermione felt at ease, finally, feeling she’d met people who could understand her ideas and theories without excessive explanation and then push her to further them. She was left in the salon with the Dark Lord as well as Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, having seen the last of the guests off for the evening.

“Hermione, my dear, you were radiant this evening. Was it everything you’d hoped for?” Narcissa asked confidentially, leaning over with her congac and pushing a delicate crystal aperitif glass into Hermione’s hands.

“Lady Malfoy, it was magnificent. I truly have not had the pleasure of such acquaintances before— how could I? I am indebted to you, such a gracious host.” Hermione bowed her head briefly and raised her glass to Narcissa.

“Please, always call me Narcissa. Lady Malfoy reminds me of Lucius’s mother.” Narcissa giggled and raised her glass in acknowledgement before both women sipped their drinks.

“This cognac comes from the Malfoy holdings over in France. Have you been to France, Hermione?”

“Oui, Madame. My mother is from France, so we visited my grandmere en Provence. She had the sweetest cottage in the country.” Hermione replied wistfully. “It was sold after she died. And my parents… Well they are gone now as well.”

“I’m sorry, you have lost so much, so young. I had no idea your parents died.” Narcissa cooed softly, sadness etching her aristocratic face. Their conversation sparked the interest of the Dark Lord who looked over. Hermione was contemplating her drink.

“They are… not dead. They are gone. It is wartime, and I did what I must to keep them safe.” Hermione responded.

“Which was what, Miss Granger?” The Dark Lord asked.

“I obliviated them of all knowledge of me, and fulfilled a life long dream of theirs to move from England. I don’t even know where they are; I removed the memory of that from myself. They don’t know they have a daughter, and with my work I knew it would be irreversible. It was the only way to truly ensure their safety. Nobody cared if two muggles were safe or not, regardless if they were my parents. So I ensured they would have the life they dreamed of, just without me. To them, I died as a child in a car accident that actually I survived, thanks to accidental magic. My muggle life ran it’s course.” Hermione stated impassively.

“I… I cannot imagine.” Narcissa said, groping for words. Lucius looked like he was torn between amazement and horror. The Dark Lord was as blank as Hermione.

“That was Salazar Slytherin’s struggle with the muggle-born students. The students were at risk from their neighbors and villages, from the Church and the Lords governing their lands. They were at times at risk from their parents, or their parents at risk for having spawned the devil and having the devil’s taint in them. I read many of his notes towards the end of his time at Hogwarts; stored in the Chamber of Secrets. He was a man torn with duty to keep students safe and to educate them. None of the other Founders understood the complexity of the issue the way he did, and he was cast out for it.” The Dark Lord spoke softly, staring into the fire and swirling the brandy in the snifter held in his long, bony fingers.

“No one in the Order understood my actions. But none of them had to lose what I did. I don’t think I ever quite understood what it was to be muggle-born until then, what it was to accept fully that I am a witch. The problems the Founders faced and how inelegantly they responded to it.” Hermione sighed.

“To choose magic over one’s family—“ Lucius began but was cut off immediately by Hermione.

“I didn’t choose to be a witch, anymore than you chose to be a wizard, Lord Malfoy. I am a witch. I am magic. But I had an extra duty to protect my muggle family; I discharged it in the only way I could completely ensure their safety while I remained on the front lines of war.” Hermione’s eyes turned hard.

“You forget that your beautiful home is my gilded cage, that I am a prisoner, bargaining with the Dark Lord for my continued safety and life. That is what muggle-born students dealt with during the time of the Founders. And every time that a war threatens, magical or muggle, it is in war where muggle-borns contemplate or commit acts others never dream of having to make.” Hermione consciously relaxed her grip on the fragile glass so she did not break it. The Dark Lord discretely sent Lucius and Narcissa from the room, the latter giving Hermione a squeeze on her arm, with a brief glance of thanks returned.

“I admit,” The Dark Lord told Hermione, as he moved towards her and sat in Narcissa’s vacated chair, “That summers during my school years were fraught with strife and chaos. The rationing and constant fear of death raining from the skies were enough to make any child want to send their parents far away to keep them safe, and many parents did send their children to the countryside to hopefully keep them safe.”

“The ministry should have acted.” Hermione said bitterly. “Why were you not evacuated?”

“The muggle government overlooked the small, privately run orphanage.”

“Figures.” Hermione said sadly. A thought crossed her mind and she looked up at him curiously.

“Sir, I know you are a natural Legimens, but I am guessing you are also a natural Occlumens as well, to have survived in that environment.”

The Dark Lord, interest piqued, nodded in agreement.

“It is said— rumored really— that children conceived with Amortentia cannot feel love. But that isn’t true, is it? You walled yourself off as an Occlumens to protect yourself. Probably for the same reasons I isolated and controlled myself before I was enrolled at Hogwarts. Not to mention such a potion wouldn’t be taught to hormonal 16 year olds if it truly were so dangerous.”

“You are likely correct, Miss Granger.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ve never thought about it. Where I was born, and subsequently raised… it was an unkind place. These days it would have been some sensational headline. It was akin to Azkaban but with priests who wanted to exorcise the demons out of the godless, abandoned children instead of Dementors who simply are straight forward in the attempt of sucking out one’s soul. Wouldn’t you have sought to keep your sanity intact? Knowing you were the demon amongst the lambs?” The Dark Lord smirked.

“Are you still fleeing, even now?” Hermione asked, tentatively putting out to hand to touch his.

The Dark Lord looked down at her small hand, resting on his large pale one. A feeling he didn’t recognize filled him, warming him inside like her pleased and surprised smile had earlier in the evening.

“Death is not the end, you know. Immortality is so much more than a body simply living forever.” Hermione smiled. “You can see a lifetime when someone dies. I remember when Sirius Black died at the Ministry. He was dueling, exhilarated in a way he hadn’t been since before his best friend died. His back hit the veil as Bellatrix’s killing curse took hold; he was blissful in that moment, in a state of nirvana. A true viking death, to die in battle and go bravely beyond. I can just picture him now in some version of Valhalla with James Potter, telling glorious tales of their deeds in life and the ones they wish they’d committed.” Hermione said wistfully.

“Are you quite done, romanticizing the end of one’s being?” The Dark Lord muttered.

“Is it romanticizing? How many lives have you taken in battle? Do you always crave their fear of death, so as to make sure you are not alone in your fear?” Hermione bit out a bit more sharply than she intended, drawing her hand back. The Dark Lord looked at her impassively.

“A bit rich, considering what you did to your parents.” He retorted.

“I kept them safe.”

“You removed an essential part of their lives and therefore who they were.”

“Me? I was part of their lives yes, but after leaving for Hogwarts, I was gone more often than I was home. They couldn’t relate to me on who I was anymore, no matter how we pretended. I hardly consider that essential.”

“You doubt your parent’s love for you?”

“You doubt mine for them? Is safety worth more than memories? Would you have left them alone, or used them to draw me out? To draw out Harry?” 

This made the Dark Lord pause. “Death Eaters would have moved against your family. It is a wartime tactic. My only standing order was that you were to be captured unhurt at any cost.” The Dark Lord responded, jaw set.

“I stand firm in my choice to sacrifice myself and our memories together, for their safety.” Hermione returned.

“As you dutifully reminded myself and our hosts that this is your prison and you are making a deal with the devil.”

“I didn’t say that—“

“It was clearly implied.”

“So what if it was? I have been at Harry’s side, fighting you since I was 11 years old. You have been the boogyman of this generation’s nightmares. Is that the immortality you want? To be feared and hated above all?” Hermione shot back. Voldemort remained nonplussed.

“There is so much more to immortality— like love. Love is immortal. It crosses all languages, all races and all creeds. The works of the mind; they can be immortal. Founding Hogwarts, that was an immortal feat. A legacy is what lives on after death; a legacy is immortal.” Hermione continued.

“How am I to make you immortal? And what will happen to me after?” Hermione asked, worrying her bottom lip. The Dark Lord looked at the girl pensively.

“There is talk of a potion in texts of old, there is also the option of alchemy and making the philosopher’s stone anew. But you, sweet Pandora? I would ask you to remain with me. I would not keep you if you sought to leave. But after one month, seeing you work through all of the problems I have struggled with for years and solving them, I would be loathe to give you up for anything.”

“Am I your equal then? Or simply a cherished pet?” Hermione asked bitterly, reminding herself of Luna in her room.

“If anyone was to be my equal, Miss Granger, it is you” came the surprising answer. Hermione attempted to not let it show on her face.

“Then I need something to call you that will not anger you; I know how you feel about the name Tom Riddle. I will not call you that or Voldemort, nor my Lord, or Master.” Hermione paused for a moment thinking. “You know, it is common practice to go by one’s middle name if there is a relative of the same name.”

“Marvolo?”

“Marvolo Slytherin. Take up your ancestor’s legacy.” Hermione smirked.

“And add my own immortality to it?” The Dark Lord enquired, non existent eyebrow raised.

“That, and perhaps gain more than one form of immortality.” Hermione replied blithely.

“What is it you want, then?” The Dark Lord asked, realizing that Hermione was playing him in a very Slytherin way.

“End the war. Ignore the stupid prophecy long enough that it can be subverted. If it weren’t for that stupid prophecy and everyone putting stock in it, you both would be living just fine. Both of you still could, especially once I restore and rebind your soul. End the war, make peace with Harry, and we could remake the world.” Hermione smiled almost predatorily.

“We?”

“I’ve been considering the variables on binding your soul back together. Even in the best of circumstances, I could inadvertently be caught up as the caster without a second soul there for yours to bind with. Plus the work has been quite satisfying, pushing boundaries and being on the verge of breakthroughs.” Hermione left out the arithmancy equations she’d been working on in regards to her future and current predicament in Voldemort’s keep.

“And remaking the world?”

“There are options. I was thinking by updating and revising what is learned, how it is learned, and when everyone learns it.” Hermione sipped delicately from her glass.

“I did always disagree with the Hogwarts curriculum. Very dated, even when I was studying.”

“I don’t think much has changed since.” They both chuckled.

“We should reconvene tomorrow to discuss details.” Hermione suggested, standing, setting her glass on a side table.

“It is getting late. I should like some time to consider… your offer.” The Dark Lord stood.

“Do think on it, Marvolo.” Hermione walked to the door and paused. “Marvolo Slytherin, now that is a name worthy of an immortal legacy.” She winked and was out the door, leaving the Dark Lord feeling confused and unlike anything he had experienced before— dumbfounded, yet intrigued by a slip of a girl. That curious, warm feeling still persisted within him.

He gazed back into the fire, his long pale fingers, clutching his glass hard enough to crack it. He threw the broken glass and its contents into the fireplace; the alcohol igniting and burning ferociously for a moment before dying down. His mind cautiously went through was his little Pandora had said, and the complexities that it would overcome and also create. He pondered the prophecy that shaped his first downfall; now wondering the full meaning.

‘Dumbledore assumed, and I never gave it any thought, that the power that Potter had over me was love, and it was at first— but now his blood runs in my veins. We share his mother’s protective warding. But what if it were Hermione Granger and her formidable power were a power which he had that I did not? I marked him as my own, thanks to his mother and spent a decade as a shade to show for it… but now what does Potter have that I do not? The only answer is truly Hermione Granger.’ Voldemort smiled at the prospect. 

He wouldn’t have to battle anymore, with her bound to him. No one would dare cross two such powerful beings such as themselves. The question would be when bound to each other, what would she tolerate? Would she stand at his side, the queen she was clearly meant to be or would she fight tooth and nail against it? He’d need her to start practicing the darker arts soon; so she would open up to her full potential as a witch. And with the re-branding she came up with on the spot, replacing Lord Voldemort with Marvolo Slytherin, combined with a rejuvenated body, he could position himself to avoid war crimes. 

He could bypass actively attempting to rule— it was a bloody mess and the general population seemed to get stupider by the minute. He could exert his will in a more Slytherin, fitting manner; like how Lucius did except not needing money and bribes to get things done. And then he could go back to what he’d always been happiest doing— learning, researching and exploring all areas of magic; particularly the oldest and obscure. Immortality was just one of the many quests he’d sent himself on over the years, achieving what no one else had done, learning magicks long forgotten. And he’d have a bound partner just as excited about the subject matter as he was.

A wife. He never imagined himself to get married; feeling that tying himself to another would limit him. But thinking back on the magical potential of Hermione Granger, as discussed with his trusted servant Severus Snape, he would be better off being bound to her than to ever have her as an adversary as she grew into her powers and honed them. And if she gave herself to him as a willingly sacrificed virgin; thank goodness his Pandora was a Gryffindor and willing to do anything to save Harry Potter’s life, as well end the blood war his followers were perpetuating. To him, was never about blood purity; it had always been about power and utilizing every avenue open to him in manipulating his followers. After the war ended, he’d need to find a way to put away, if not put down, the mongrels hiding in his ranks as death eaters. The ones who thought the dark arts were about killing and cursing. His was smile was predatory as he decided that Miss Granger would have a very interesting lesson the next morning

 

* * *

 

 

Luna was sleeping restlessly when Hermione arrived back in her room, which quickly woke her friend.

“How was dinner?” Luna mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes as Hermione sat on the bed next to her.

“Interesting. Apparently I’ve all but solved the restoration issue, which was celebrated with the accomplishments I’ve made since then along with my being here one full month. There were some famous academics in attendance; ones I have used as reference or used as foundation for theories I had. Brilliant conversation; you would have loved it. Brought out my inner Ravenclaw.” Hermione joked.

“I need you to record a memory to send to the Order. I’m quite positive that he knows why you’re here, and it’s exactly why he wanted me to have access to you.” Hermione’s brief smile faded into grim determination. Luna nodded, bit her cheek, silently casting the incantation, and motioned for Hermione to continue.

“Bill, Tonks— I need one or both of you to save this memory. It needs to be given to the other order members not just as a report, but in full. Especially Harry.” Hermione took a deep breath, got up and started pacing.

“Harry, I want you to know how much I’ve thought about this dilemma over the past several weeks. I cannot be rescued by the Order. It’s been a standing command for Death Eaters since the Department of Mysteries battle that I was to be captured unhurt at any cost. I have finished the first part of my research here, and will be creating a restorative potion that will recall the last of the missing pieces of the Dark Lord’s soul before binding them all back together. It is the binding that is the most difficult. If I bind myself to him in order to bind his own soul back together, the war would come to a swift and peaceful end.

“I’ve learned many things tonight, Harry. One is that Dumbledore was wrong; The Dark Lord is not just a natural Legilimens, but a natural Occlumens as well. He can feel love— he always walled himself off from it because of his upbringing during World War II in a strict and religious orphanage that never evacuated from London. Amortentia has nothing to do with love; and those born due to it have no difference from anyone else. I mean, why else would it remain in 6th year advanced potions if the consequences were so dire?

“I digress. If I do this Harry, if I bind myself to him, the war would end and you would be safe. We all would be safe. He only used blood purity as a way to manipulate and motivate his followers in the beginning and others clung to that notion moving forward. When the war is over, that will be abolished.

“I willingly give myself to this, Harry. This is my choice to make. So many lives can be saved by ending this war as soon as possible. The horcruxes are useless to find and destroy— it doesn’t weaken him, and soon all of the soul pieces will be back where they belong in the first place and his soul rejoined. Which could make him a different man entirely. He’s downright brilliant, and I know a peaceful, swift solution will be strategized to end the war.

“Please Harry, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. I’ve spent the entire time that I’ve been gone researching this and possible outcomes. I’ll have Luna transfer a memory of the arithmancy calculations I’ve made as to why this is the best possible outcome. I’ve looked into the others… and it isn’t pretty. All of the other outcomes predict a large battle where hundreds die.

“Harry, know that I love you and all the others. I am doing this to make a better world— isn’t that what we set out to do in the first place?” Hermione stopped pacing and looked Luna dead in the eye.

“Harry, you are my only family that I have left. You are my best friend, and for you I would move heaven and earth. This is my choice. I have thought on it, researched it and used arithmancy to come to my conclusion. This is the best shot we have for a positive outcome; I’m going to take it.” Hermione went to the desk, grabbed a sheet of parchment with the arithmancy calculations on it, and handed it to Luna, who scrutinized the paper, etching it into the memory as clearly as she could. After, she caught Hermione’s nod of confirmation and ended the memory transmission.

“I agree with your choice, Hermione.” Luna smiled serenely. “You used your strengths. I think Professor Dumbledore misinterpreted the prophecy all wrong. You were the power that Harry had. And by binding yourself to HIM, as well as your long standing friendship with Harry, you’d be the bridge that allows to them both to exist without them having to kill each other. The Dark Lord will vanish and his restored self will take his place, changed. He will be tempered by you and your compassion. I think everyone will be happier and thrive better, especially based on your arthimancy calculations. I wish I could tell Daddy; he would love to write about this in The Quibbler.” 

“Well, I can always ask. Though until a peace is brokered, nothing will be allowed.” Hermione smiled. “I need to go to sleep. I have a gut feeling that tomorrow is going to be quite the day.”

 

* * *

 

 

Harry woke to a hand roughly shaking his shoulder. It was Bill, looking exceptionally pale in the moonlight drifting in the window. He put his finger to his lips and motioned for Harry to follow. In the kitchen, a steaming kettle was already steeping tea for them. Luna’s mission journal sat open on the table, and there was a penseive along with a piece of parchment with complex arithmancy computations next to it.

“What’s going on Bill?” Asked Harry, worriedly. He barely paused before he swore under his breath. “I knew something would go wrong.”

“It’s not that exactly, Harry. I was reading Luna’s transcriptions for today. She finally made contact with Hermione. You-Know-Who gave Luna to her as a pet.” Bill answered.

“A pet?!” Harry almost shouted as Bill shushed him.

“Everyone’s still sleeping. I’ll read you today’s notes, and then there’s a memory that Hermione wanted you to see. A message for you.” At Harry’s horrified look, Bill amended, “A message from her. Luna was the only way for her to communicate with you. And I think before anyone else hears the message, you should first.” Bill pushed a cup of tea into Harry’s hands and sat him down at the table, to begin reading. When finished going through Luna’s transmissions for the day, he used his wand to draw a silvery strand of memory from his temple and transferred it into the penseive. He prodded at it with his wand, and a small figure of Hermione in her fine dress robes appeared, pacing. She began reciting the message that the real Hermione spoke a few hours earlier. When the memory finished, Harry slumped back, stunned.

“We’ve got to save her; rescue her. She can’t do this!” Harry began before Bill raised his hand.

“I copied down the arithmancy from the memory. It’s thorough. And what Hermione described is correct. If she doesn’t do this, rescued or not there would be a vicious battle, where hundreds would die. I did an equation on the side… one of them would be a sibling of mine, though I haven’t the heart to solve out who it would be” Bill gulped. 

“Her equations check out and she’s downright brilliant, if in a month she was able to formulate a way to repair a soul as fractured as You-Know-Who’s. She’s got to be as smart as Rowena Ravenclaw herself, with this sort of work. I’ve seen theories about these arithmancy calculations but never used so specifically and to such a clear end. It’s cutting edge work, Harry. She’s truly being taught more right now than she ever has at Hogwarts, and obviously she’s being taken care of there— no signs of torture or anything. She certainly couldn’t have solved any of what she’s been working on had she been subjected to Unforgivables or tortured in another way. And the blood purity aspect being a manipulation and him being an Occlumens? It all makes sense.” Bill shook his head.

“I guess it does make sense. It doesn’t mean I support it. She’s binding herself to him— and I doubt it’s anything less than permanent.” Harry said darkly, massaging his temples.

“You have to understand, Harry, soul magic is more than just having to stay with someone. It mingles both souls. If I’m right, she probably is selecting the strongest binding on a soul there is, which involves blood bonding. And if she mingles her soul with his… her innate goodness will be mixed into his soul.” Bill stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“As well as his evilness into her. Hermione shouldn’t be tainted by— that!”

“I know you didn’t take Arithmancy, but her calculations support that You-Know-Who would effectively be neutralized. And she said there would be peace. I’m pretty sure binding his soul back together comes at the price of ending the war. She said the blood feud would end with the war, and the part about ‘a swift and peaceful end would be strategized’? She can put herself into a position to call the shots and end the war, Harry. And save your life at the same time.” Bill emphasized.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, one of the calculations here is if you’d survive the war. The equation… it pointed to both yes and no, but only if you gained control of all the Deathly Hallows. It came out no if you did not.” Bill sighed, having only recently pried from Harry and Ron about the Deathly Hallows.

“How can it be both yes and no? Doesn’t that mean something’s wrong with the calculation?” Harry asked, gaining a surprised look from Bill. “What, I do listen sometimes to Hermione’s rants on homework,” he shrugged, sheepishly.

“Well this is way beyond NEWT-level, or anything near what Hogwarts teaches. I just came across this theory the other day in the latest copy of  _ Arithmancy Today _ . It literally is both. So if you both do and do not survive the war with the Deathly Hallows… I think what Hermione interprets, and I agree, is that you would die and come back to life.” Bill finished, looking back at the calculations and shaking his head in disbelief.

“That… I would say that doesn’t make sense but if that’s why Dumbledore wanted me to become Master of Death by collecting the Hallows, so I could survive being killed… he must have known all along. Did he know that there could be a different solution?” Harry asked, pained.

“Who knows? Probably not. I mean, who would have expected that You-Know-Who wanted Hermione captured? Starting after the Department of Mysteries? That’s more patience than any of us ever suspected him of having. You always said in his visions that he’s short-tempered and impatient.” Bill shrugged.

“Maybe he hates stupid people?” Harry suggested, and Bill laughed quietly.

“Given his followers, I wouldn’t blame him.” Bill sniggered and Harry joined in.

“So… how do we break this to every else? Do we?” Harry tackled the elephant now in the room.

“I think I need to send a message to Tonks, in case she reads her copy of the journal. She’s asked me to monitor for now, but if Teddy’s napping and she takes a look, I don’t want her to have fits. I think we should consult Kingsley, Remus and McGonagall, but otherwise I’d keep mum. Honestly, I’m fairly certain that if peace were to be brokered, it’d be Kingsley who’d be sent. I think McGonagall went to Hogwarts with You-Know-Who, and everyone except probably Hermione knows that Hermione is her favorite student to an extreme. Remus’s too, plus Remus lost all of his best friends to him. I think Kingsley’s in the best position to ‘strategize a swift and peaceful end’ as Hermione put it, and he’s not as emotionally compromised as some of the others.” Bill finished thoughtfully.

“No chance I—“

“No, Harry. Just in case Hermione’s wrong and he decides to kill you for good measure. Or if that’s his idea of quick peace.” Bill looked at Harry pointedly. Harry sighed deeply.

“It was worth a shot. I just… I feel so helpless.” Harry looked at Bill with an uncharacteristic vulnerability he had valiantly tried to hide, particularly the last two years.

“I know, mate. It’s how all of us felt about you. Helpless to do anything. Now you get to join the club and feel helpless about Hermione saving our arses.” Bill sighed as well.

Outside, the sun was starting to come up over the horizon.

“C’mon, let me put this away. The sunrises here are bloody spectacular.” Bill nudged Harry, and the two of them headed outside shortly afterwards, to watch the sun make it’s way into the heavens, climbing out of the oceanic view.

 


End file.
